The Precious Girls

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
Tara recounts the days of her kidnapping

Submitted: November 14, 2016

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Submitted: November 14, 2016

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I was twelve years old when it happened to me. I was practically blind-sided by it when it all began. A car had pulled up to the side of the road where I was walking, and two men jumped out with ski masks and black gloves.

I was quickly abducted on this day, and I’ll remember every moment of it all for as long as I live.

I remember thinking first and foremost about the bags of groceries that I’d dropped when they took me. My mother had saved up a lot of money for us get her favorite kind of cheese to make for dinner that night. And now, I could only imagine the wheel of cheese rotting on the side of the road until forever. Mom wasn’t going to ever reap the benefits of what she worked hard to earn, and that just seemed really sad to me in the moment.

In the moment I didn’t know why I was abducted. I wasn’t that pretty, and I didn’t have a lot of money. Both of these seemed to be the only reasons I could think that strange men would want anything do with me at the time.

One of them slapped me across the head with a solid metal object, and I think he thought that I would lose consciousness from the blow. But I laid awake there for a while, listening to the broken English from their yelling to go this way or that way. They obviously weren’t all that experienced in abducting little girls I guess.

“Turn!” One of them screamed. “Get on the highway!”

“Shut the fuck up! I know where we’re going!”

They were going to take me away, far away from my home. If they’d get on the highway they could reach the Mexican border by nightfall. I did not know what was to come of me, but I also didn’t struggle or feel the need to fight them back.

There was nobody following us, nobody to hear my cries for help, I thought it best to keep my eyes closed, pretend that I was in my bed back home, snuggling up to my favorite pillow with Mom while watching a Disney cartoon.

The car did stop, waking me from my dreams. They forced me outside, where I landed in the arms of two men who dragged me onto a city’s sidewalk and into an old, rusty building. Here is where I knew that I would stay for a very long time.

There was a smell that I knew would answer the question of what was to come of me. There was sex in the air, and it was filling my nostrils from every direction. This must have been I brothel, I thought. Here is where I’ll be raped and beaten, sold and abused. There’s a part of me that was sad for my future existence, but that only meant that there was another part of me to be glad to know that at least I’d know what was to become of me.

For me, I was tossed inside a small room. It was dirty, and there was no floor, only dirt. There was a thin mattress in the corner, which smelled of sex and body odor. Here is where I slept for the next thirty minutes.

Then a women came inside. This woman was ethnic, and I think she must have been Mexican. Her face was old and withered. The way she looked at me let me know that I was no longer a person in this world. I was a product, like a chicken that only served just one purpose until I could no longer provide pleasure.

This woman stripped me naked, exposing myself in front of another person for the first in my life.

“You are a virgin. Yes?” She demanded.

I nodded in my reply. My heart filled with shame for my lost virginity that was to come. I tried not to imagine the pain I’d likely feel, as another man would take the all of me for his thirty seconds of pleasure. I tried not to imagine the bruises that would be left on my breasts, as a man would grip me without a sense of delicacy.

“If you are good, we treat you good,” this woman said to me. She handed me a piece of string, which I’d later find out that this was to be my underwear.

Then she left me the same way she came. And I didn’t know if crying was even worth it for me. None of had felt real to me, it had happened too fast, too quick to believe that I wasn’t going to wake up to the sound of my Mom telling me that I was having a nightmare.

My Mom would have started to worry about where I was at this time of the night. She would have called my only friend first, wondering where I’d run off to. And once she didn’t know, Mom would begin to worry. I’d just wished that I could tell her not to stay up all night calling my cell phone, the police, searching for me everywhere throughout the town. I’d wished that I could say goodbye to her, even if it meant that I’d be trapped inside a cell for the rest of my life. Mom would look for me for the rest of her life. And I wished that I’d died on the side of road, because then Mom would stop looking for me and move on with her life.

I felt that these men had stolen the lives of two people on this night.

----

I closed my eyes when the first man raped me. I did not see his face, his skin color, his sex. I only tried staying inside of my own thoughts. I pretended that I was with a boy who I had liked from my school class. He was the one who I would have liked to make-love with when we turned eighteen years old.

The man finished quickly from on top of me, releasing himself into me, filling me with the filth of his past generations. I laid motionless with my legs spread, even when he finished and exhausted himself next to me. I thought that he would mount himself on top of me again, thrusting and using me for every penny’s worth of his money spent.

But he was done with me. And for him, I was only good enough for just one release.

This was the only moment that I wanted to cry.

I was alone again, even if was for a short while. The food that was served to me came after the man was finished. I already knew that if I was a good lay, I’d receive a better meal from my captors.

Rice and beans was served.

Rape was the dessert I guess.

The first day I was raped three times. And on the second day, I was raped four times. I was washed and scrubbed clean when there weren’t any men waiting in line for their turn. The same older and withered woman would bring in a bucket of soapy water and a sponge.

“Up,” she demanded, motioning me to lift my arms. She washed every inch of me, scrubbing my sex. The pain of it became excruciating to bear.

“Please,” I pleaded, “I can do it myself.”

“Spread,” she demanded, motioning me to spread my legs.

“Please.”

“Spread!”

I was bearing her attack on my body. There was nothing I could imagine to try and take my mind off of the pain. And every day, I grew more sore. I began to think that I my body was only to be of use to my captors for a week.

But this was before I knew about the torture fantasies of some men.

Some enjoyed my screaming cries in pain during the rape. Some men raped me again after he was released the first time. I began to think that the more pain I felt, the more these men would become turned on.

I tried my best, but I could not contain my searing pain during the rape. And so I was raped again, sometimes three consecutive times.

When finished, the men left satisfied.

The food I ate finally had meat added into it. It tasted like pork, but I knew that most of it was the same dog food that I’d feed my dog back home. I ate it all, and I became grateful to be treated to this meat.

On the fifteenth day, I no longer was alone inside my cell. There was a girl who was thrown inside with me, and she said that there was an overcrowding of women inside the cells, so our captors decided to offer two women for a cheaper price.

This girl was two years older than I was, and she said that she had been taken and sold to three different brothels over the two months that she had been kidnapped.

“Have you tried escaping yet?” She asked me.

I shook my head no.

“Good,” she nodded. “Once you’re labeled as a ‘BG’, they’ll never give you a proper meal ever again.”

“BG?”

“Bad Girl.”

“Oh,” I said.

“What’s your name?”

I said that my name was Tara, and she said that her name was Gigi.

“Is that your real name?” she asked me.

“Yes,” I said.

“Good,” she nodded. “It won’t matter if you use a fake name, anyway. Keeping your real name is the only part left of you that they can’t take away.”

Gigi taught me that if I pretended to be sick on some days, there wouldn’t be as many men who would want to rape me. She said that she’d only pretended to be sick twice since she’d been here.

“If you stick your finger down your throat, you will puke, and nobody will want to rape you,” she explained. “But if you are a sick girl, they will have no use for you. So you shouldn’t pretend to be sick more than once a month.”

Gigi and I were raped together on the first day that we were kept inside the cell together. Sometimes, there were two men with us.

Gigi told me that a lot of men prefer to see two women have sex with each other, instead of raping us. These sorts of days became the greatest days of my existence, since Gigi knew how to be gentle with me.

The two of us both received the dog food in our meals almost every day, and we used our time to talk about our lives outside of this hell we were living.

“I used to be in beauty pageants,” Gigi told me. “My Momma would drive me across the state. Everywhere.” I believed her. Gigi was more attractive than I was, and she had a much more mature and full body than I had.

“How were you taken?” I asked her.

“Kidnapped?”

“Yes.”

“I was in a motel with my Momma. We’d just traveled across the state to enter into a beauty pageant. We must have been followed or something from where the competition was. My Momma said she was going out to buy a pack of smokes, and that’s when two men came and took me.”

“Did your Momma see them kidnap you?”

“No,” she shook her head. “No she did not.” And I knew how much this had hurt Gigi so much. Her Momma had probably been searching for her this entire time. Just like mine was.

“Does it get easier?” I asked her.

“Living here?”

“Yes.”

“Depends on the person,” Gigi shrugged. “The last girl I saw tried to choke herself to death from her underwear.”

“Oh.”

“Yea. But you don’t seem like that type of person. That might be a good thing, or a bad thing, if you ask me.”

“Have you tried to kill yourself?”

“Twice, yes.”

Gigi and I ate in silence, and I wondered when I would finally realize that death was the better option from this existence. I imagined Gigi finding my lifeless body one morning, when she’d tell the older woman that I’d choked myself to death. Gigi would be forced to drag my remains down the splintered hallway, into the outside alleyway. Dumping me into the pile of feces and road-kill, until the city scraped me up and tossed me into a landfill.

And I just didn’t want Gigi to have to do such a thing.

When we finished our meal, the older woman came to scrub and clean us both before another man would pay to rape us both. I watched as the older woman scrubbed Gigi’s sex, but Gigi didn’t seem to feel the same amount of pain that I’d known since my existence here. When I asked her if she felt sore, she told me that my body will develop a tolerance to the pain, and I’d soon grow calluses over the areas where I felt the most sore.

She also told me that this was a good thing, since the calluses would make my sex seem tighter when a man raped me.

“You’ll be a better lay for men,” Gigi explained, “And then you’ll get meat in your meal.”

I was excited to hear the news. And I hadn’t even realized just how sad my existence had suddenly become.

Gigi was right in her explanation. Because after another two weeks had passed, I felt little pain during my consistent rapes. And the meals I received all had dog meat inside the mushy rice.

I felt a sense of pride in myself, like it was as if I’d beaten the odds of surviving in this existence. I felt that I could outlive my own captors, and I’d eventually become free somehow, some way.

On many nights I laid awake next to Gigi, and I’d think about how I could use my own story to encourage all the people in the world who were experiencing their own hardships. I felt that I could explain that life was all about perspective, that people can only find happiness when they look at the world that surrounds them.

And even though I was living an existence of sex-slavery and rape, I too, could find the little meager happiness from it all.

------

Happiness is not an eternity, as I discovered after two weeks went by. Gigi had told me that she may have been pregnant, which was always a worry from the older woman who scrubbed our sexes clean every day.

If Gigi was, in fact, pregnant, then she would no longer be a good lay for many of the men who would come to rape her. Gigi said that our captors would dispose of her as soon as she showed the familiar symptoms of pregnancy, and I felt an unbelievable sense of worry for her.

“What can we do?” I asked.

“What is there to do?” Gigi sunk.

“Escape,” I suggested. “We can try to escape. The both of us.”

“But we’ll be caught,” she said. “We’ll be caught, and you’ll be a BG. They will dispose of me, and you’ll eventually want to kill yourself from how they’ll treat you.”

“So?” I said. “You’re my best friend. I don’t want to live here without you.”

Gigi began to cry for the first time since I’d known her. When I asked her why she was crying, she said that she’d never had a best friend when she was living in Texas. And for so many reasons, I began to cry at this as well.

I told Gigi that we were going to attack the older woman when she came into our cell to clean us. We’d hit her over the head with the bucket of soapy water, and we’d steal the keys from her pocket.

“But where will we go?” Gigi asked.

“Anywhere.”

“But they’ll find us quickly. They’ll know where we might be hiding in the city.”

“Then we’ll go to the police,” I said.

Gigi laughed and cried at this. “The police will give us back to them. The police are customers of our captors.”

I no longer knew that Gigi and I would survive this whole ordeal. But what other choice did we have?

“We have to try. You’ll die if we don’t, Gigi.”

“Yea, but at least it’s only one of us who will die.”

“Yea,” I said. “But if you die, I don’t know how much longer I will be able to live.”

Gigi began to cry again, and I told her that I was going to try and escape, and there wasn’t anything she could say to change my mind.

Gigi and I were both raped four consecutive times that day, and each of the men filled us up with the same filthy release that I’d felt inside of me since I’d first arrived. I thought that the end might have been near for us.

The older woman was going to come inside our cell eventually, so Gigi and I prepared ourselves for how we were to try and escape. We then waited for what seemed like an eternity. The both of us staring at the ground with pounding beats of our hearts.

“Do you think our Mommas will still love us if we see them again?” Gigi asked me.

I thought to say the obvious answer. Yes! Of course! But I didn’t, because I knew why Gigi had asked me the question.

“Do you think they’ll be ashamed of us?” Gigi said. “They will know what happened to us eventually. We’re disgusting girls, Tara. What man would ever fall in love with either of us after he knew what we had done?”

“I don’t know,” was all I could say.

“Do you think we’ll ever have a normal life?”

“No,” I said. “No I do not.”

Gigi nodded softly back to me. “Can you promise me something?”

“Of course,” I said.

“If we do escape from this place, and we do return home somehow. Can you promise me that you will still be my best friend?”

“Of course,” I said. “But only if you promise me something.”

“Okay,” Gigi smiled timid.

I said, “I think you and I would be great BG’s together.” Gigi’s smile grew wide. “You have to promise me that we won’t let our kidnappers keep us from having fun for the rest of our lives.”

“I promise.” Gigi smiled bright. It was the first time that I’d seen the real Gigi.

-----

It happened like a dream. The older woman entered our cell just as she had every day since we’d been here.

“Up!” She demanded from Gigi and me. Gigi and I both lifted our arms, and the old woman began to clean me first, as Gigi snuck behind the older woman and dumped the soapy water from the bucket.

The older woman yelled, “Hey!” but Gigi was quick to knock her in the forehead with the metal bucket. The older woman fell backwards, and Gigi hit her again, again, and again. I knew that Gigi wasn’t going to stop until the older woman was no longer alive.

I didn’t tell Gigi to stop, and I didn’t try and save the older woman’s life. This was something that I would have to live with for the rest of my life.

When Gigi finally finished and she stopped crying in her tearful rage, she looked back up to me. She wiped her nose and eyes, and I knew that she was worried that I thought she was a crazy person.

But I didn’t think she was crazy. “You really are a BG,” I said to her.

She smiled softly back to me. “Can we please get the fuck out of here?”

Gigi snatched the keys from the older woman’s pocket, leaving her bloodied body lying on the same mattress that Gigi and I had shared.

We closed the cell door quietly, as we noticed a different view from our four cell walls for the first time in months. It was a skinny, empty, filthy hallway. And I thought it was the most beautiful scenery I’d ever seen in my life.

We weren’t caught yet, and we weren’t noticed as we crept our way towards the entrance to the back alleyway. There were men standing outside the cold, damp street. But Gigi and I knew that none of them were our kidnappers. These were all their customers.

All of them noticed us - Gigi and I wore nothing but a shoestring for underwear - but none of them said a word. Instead, two of the men gave us both their jackets to cover up our shivering selves.

Gigi and I did not thank the men, and we thought that the men did not feel that they should have been thanked anyway. We instead ran barefoot down the far end of the dark alley, exposing ourselves in front of a few passing cars.

We kept running, and running, and running until we could no longer run. There must have been over three miles of distance between ourselves and our kidnappers. But we knew that this wasn’t enough.

Gigi had collapsed herself in front of me.

“Gigi get up,” I pleaded. “We have to keep going.”

“I can’t,” she cried. “I can’t. I can’t.”

I started to cry next to her. There were some houses around us, but I dreaded the thought of asking anyone for help. Only one house that I saw still had its lights on inside from the nighttime darkness.

“What should we do?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she cried.

What else could we do? I told Gigi that I was going to ask someone for help, but I wouldn’t tell them where Gigi was unless I knew that they weren’t going to give us back to our kidnappers.  

I told Gigi, “If I’m not back for a while, you need to go on without me, because they’re going to take me back to the kidnappers.”

Gigi cried and said, “But I don’t want to be saved without you.”

“We don’t have a choice, Gigi.”

“Please don’t leave.”

I left. I ran up to the house in the distance. I knocked on the door quietly, and an elderly man answered.

“Can you help me? Please? I was kidnapped, and I’ve escaped.”

The older man looked at me, and I already knew that he did not speak a word of English. I didn’t care though. I could see it in this eyes that he was a good man. I hadn’t stood in front of him for more than five seconds before his eyes began to swell with tears of sorrow for me.

He ushered me inside his home quickly, where I heard him call out to someone in a quiet shout.

An older woman appeared, and after the man said something in Spanish, she hugged me so tightly right away, crying tears with me. She felt so warm, loving. I wanted to have this feeling for the rest of my life.

The older couple then led me to their kitchen table, where I was motioned to sit, while the older woman rushed to her cabinets as the older man turned off most of the lights. I thought this as clever, since our kidnappers would likely search for houses in the area that still had lights on inside.

When they both returned in front of me, the older woman placed a warm blanket around my shoulders and the older man gave me a cup of steamy hot soup.

“My friend,” I said. “I need to bring her here.”

They both looked at each other, trying to find some way to understand.

I pointed to myself, then held up two fingers.

“Oh, Si.” The older woman gasped in shock. “Si. Si. Si.” She was crying. And I began to cry.

We were going to be saved.

 

To all the Precious Girls in the world. 

 

 

 


© Copyright 2017 Michelle Audet. All rights reserved.

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